Morgoth's Final Return
by Nightfable
Summary: It is the 9th Age on Earth and a young elf named Isha is sent back through time to the 4th Age with an unconscious Galadriel. The Battle of Battles is upon them and Morgoth is finally free from his prison.
1. Foreword

_A little bit of information before we begin the story._

* * *

It is the 9th Age in Arda; now called Earth.

The humans have become very advanced technologically and the elves of Valinor have completely removed themselves from the world.

Arda is now a very different place from what it used to be.

While the majority of the elves have gone during the 4th age, a few have decided to stay with the humans. By the 6th Age, these few elves have been captured and experimented on by the greed of humans. In modern society of capitalism, instant-gratification, and the search for immortality, the elven DNA is extracted and applied to human fetuses by scientists. The generations pass and humans are now a blend of both elven and human genes, they are named the Elvans. The remaining unmodified humans are called the Terrans.

The Elvans are a perfect mix of both human and elven DNA, handpicked by scientists to make the perfect beings, thousands of years back. They have the beauty, grace and elven longevity; the drive and ingenuity of humans. They live in harmony with nature and are re-growing the trees that were lost to them ages back when nuclear war raged. They have one of the Silmarils, which has been found in the ocean (when they were restoring the seas to their original un-polluted state).

The Terrans are humans who have modified themselves with multiple implants to keep up with the Elvan's long lifespan. They have grown to detest the high-order of these beings, they hide in large dwellings deep underground. They have discovered one of the Silmarils from deep-mining the Earth.

Since the discovery of zero-point energy technology, food, clothing, housing and shelter is available for everyone to use. Both races have this advantage and can change their clothes at will, create battle armor, tools and transportation with the help of small generators that hook on the body


	2. Chapter 1

Isha held her breath in wonder, closely inspecting the seed she held between her gloved fingers. It's slightly odd shape instantly struck her as being different. She cocked her head to the side. The thought of discovering a new type of plant brought both exhilaration and adrenaline coursing through her whole body. Since the Nuclear Wars one-thousand-six-hundreds years ago, almost all plant and animal life had been eradicated. The thought brought her a pang of sadness. There had been many controversial wars but the nuclear bombs had been the most heartless and destructive.

Briefly touching the small box at her hip, the closeness of her fingers activated the device, she issued a quick scan and the results streamed in long lines codes upon a weightless holographic screen.

"I knew it!" she laughed and twirled around clutching the seed to her chest. "And, you're alive!" If she hadn't been wearing her environmental suit, she would have been kissing it from the pure joy it brought her. She dropped the small seed carefully inside a clear bag, labeled 'Live Find - Sector 2053NT-4' and slipped it inside her shoulder bag.

The Elvan had been painstakingly searching the deserted wasteland for days. This was her job as a Green Keeper of her society and it could become a very lonely task but of the utmost importance. Isha grew to enjoy the quiet rustling of the wind through the rocks and dirt. She could imagine how it once had been to stand in a large wooden forest with hundreds upon hundreds of trees, singing together in harmony along with the wind through their large strong branches.

The few shrubs, she did come upon, lamented their grief softly and she wished she was able to bring them reassurance or some sort of comfort. But this land was dead and the poor lives wouldn't last long in the arid, radioactive land.

Isha extended her arm, issuing a command for her zero-point generator. She knelt, her full attention on the small life. It pinged and a green holographic grid was visible to her naked eye. A line of soft green traveled up and down, the slow pulsating coming from the small plant; chiming softly at each peak. Some intricate diagrams expanded above and around the plant, pointing to different parts of the bush with blocks of coded results.

"I'm sorry my friend. There isn't much I can do to help. One day we will restore life and balance to your kind… I promise."

The slight lonely pings slowed down at her words. She knew it understood her and the sorrow in her heart made hot tears flow down her face behind her smooth helmet.

A rumble in the distance brought her attention to the sky. The reddish-brown polluted hue was now tinged with unusual clouds - black as ink - rolling in from the west. A strange knot in her stomach formed; her throat suddenly very dry. She had never seen such a sky. It was grim and ominous and she had to force herself not to listen to her mounting panic and run.

The Green Keeper noticed something else arriving from the west; a humanoid form hunched over was struggling to walk. She cried in alarm and ran as fast as she could towards the person. Isha knew she was putting herself in danger by approarching the stranger. For all she knew it could be one of the Terrans seeking to create havoc in her sector. Isha always listened to her heart, foremost, and at this moment her heart urged her to aid.

The person was an old man with a long white beard, his hair and robes flew all around him. He held a long walking stick in his right hand and on his left shoulder, he carried a slender woman with very long golden hair. Her body hung limply; her dress whipping around with in the wind.

The first question that came to Isha's mind was why in the world weren't they wearing an enviro-suit like her. This sector was highly radiated and could poison anyone in mere minutes.

The old man's head raised, as if sensing her presence in front of him, and looked her over with piercing blue eyes. Even though her enviro-suit and helmet completely covered her body and hid her identity, she felt as if she had stood naked in front of him.

"You have no suit, you're unprotected out here! You will die!" Her voice rang loud and hysteric, "Come, you need shelter!"

Activating her second generator, she issued the command meant for emergency transportation and a round holographic platformed slipped out of thin air. It emanated a soft blue glow - shimmering and illuminating the darkened surroundings - it spun around on itself like a coin and finally set itself horizontally above her knees.

The toxic winds became suddenly violent and whipped all around them. The black clouds now covered the little bit of natural sunlight that remained. Thanks for the glow of her platform, she could still make out where the strangers were situated.

"Get onto the platform, hurry!"

The old man wearily looked at the woman he was transporting, then back at her and nodded in understanding. With Isha's help they placed the woman onto her back. Once she was resting onto the hologram, the wind stopped reaching her as if an invisible wall had been irrigated.

Supporting the old man's elbow, Isha helped him onto the platform. There wasn't enough space for her to hop on, they were three and there wouldn't be enough zero-point energy to support all of them together.

Knowing they were pressed for time - the clouds approaching at alarming speed - she made up her mind. Touching her personal generator - the one meant for her enviro-suit - she transferred its energy to the other two generators. The platform enlarged. Immediately, her enviro-suit dissipated and faded into nothingness as if blown away with the wind.

Wearing only her regular thermal jump-suit, and shoulder bag, she leaped onto the platform. In mid-jump, the force of the wind struck her hard. For an instant she thought she'd be swallowed by the sand and wind but a hand had grabbed hold of the front of her jump-suit and had pulled her back onto the circular safety.

Isha signaled with her hand and the platform began to move at an incredible pace. She coughed, feeling the nausea, she knew was caused by irradiation, slowly spread and intensify.

"You have been poisoned," the old man said gravely, a look of worry in his eyes. "You have put your own well-being in great peril to aid us. Thank you."

"I was exposed for just a few moments, I should be alright. I'm Isha, by the way."

Even though he looked tired, the man didn't seem to suffer from the effects of radiation, which was very odd.

"What about you and your friend? You must have been walking in this sector for miles. You shouldn't even be standing, let alone talking."

"We are not from these parts, our bodies are… impervious to this poison. Unfortunately, we have much bigger problems," his eyes looked towards the west where she knew the strange storm was brewing.

"Those clouds? What are they?"

They were zooming at high speed towards a large dome. It held a bright city of white inside.

"I will explain once we find shelter," a small smile formed upon his lips, "It's nice to meet you, Isha. I am Gandalf, and with me is the fair Lady Galadriel."


	3. Chapter 2

They had finally reached the large energy dome, on the outskirts of her city. Alarms beeped all around them loudly and a long curved screen unfolded in a surrounding circle. The stoic upper body of an Elvan soldier wearing bulky combat armor, inspected her behind his helmet.

"Who are these two strangers with you, Green Keeper Isha Nolar?"

Isha felt her heart pound madly in her chest.

"I found them in my Sector. They need medical attention."

"You are aware that if you are found bringing Terrans into the city, you will be reprimanded."

"I am aware of that and I take full responsibility!"

A gigantic sand storm had engulfed her platform and the forces of the wind tried to unhinge it from its place. Her small generators would not be able to take the strain for much longer.

"Very well, Green Keeper. You may enter. Please make your way directly to quarantine zone 82 - you have severe radiation poisoning.

"Understood," a wave of relief washed over her and their platform resumed its flight through the barrier and into the city without any incident.

Gandalf remained silent as a blur of tall glass buildings and lights passed by them. Weather warnings were broadcasted on large televised holo-screens hundreds of feet above the ground. Isha couldn't shake off the ominous feeling that clung to her like a dark plague. A fit of coughs wracked her body again, this time specs of blood spattered against her hand. The situation was worst than she had thought.

They had arrived in zone 82. A group a people were waiting for them, fully clothed in white protective enviro-suits. They helped the old man and the beautiful unconscious woman onto designated medical hover-beds.

Isha placed her hand upon the old man's shoulder, "Don't worry, Gandalf, they are here to help us."

He smiled at her, bowing his head slightly in thanks and she let herself be pushed back onto the soft white sheets of the hover-board. As she did so, the air around her came alive and turned into a canvas painted of visualized codes, diagrams and pulses that were closely monitored.

"Patient Isha Nolar, female, age four-hundred and twenty-two, no known allergies. She is gravely irradiated and needs an intensive treatment of Adernlasol and Predimtalene. Quick, put her under!" the digitized masculine voice was grave and heavy with urgency.

Isha felt the world swim around her as they entered a large well-lit building. She was vaguely aware of receiving the anesthesia through the epidermis of her right forearm. It was a strong dose, because she instantly lost consciousness.

* * *

Isha's dreams were tainted by nightmares of black clouds swallowing her up. Her lungs ached and she struggled to breathe as a thick smoke entered through her mouth and nose. A monstrous dark form towered, and two glistening eyes locked onto her. This was evil incarnate, she felt it through her whole being. She trembled with unimaginable fear. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run. Everything was engulfed in darkness and she felt her life slipping from her.

Then a soft gentle light lit the darkness, a beautiful woman with long flowing golden hair held a glowing gem in her hand, the clouds dissipated from around her and in her pristine white gown she glowed brightly. Isha recognized the woman, she had saved her from the wasteland, earlier. The woman was no more unconscious and her grey eyes sparkled with life.

"Wake, little one. You have much to do." With her melodic words, the light coming from the jewel in her hand became brighter than a thousand sun. The pressure that had been holding onto her lungs dissipated and Isha was able to breathe freely again.

A loud rumble shook her awake.

Her breath caught in her lungs, the dream had been so vivid. Her heart was racing madly in her chest from the lingering fear. She noticed she was sitting in a familiar sterile room, her clothes had been changed and she recognized the immaculate revitalizing feeling sonic-showers brought. Her hand went to her hip, and she noticed all but one of her generators were gone.

Her head ached a bit, but the nausea had all but vanished. The old man sat at the edge of his bed, intently staring at her. His wrinkled skin wasn't dirty any longer, his long white hair was washed and neatly tied back. He wore a cream-colored thermal-suit like her, his thin legs and feet were covered with soft pliable boots of a shade darker that reached his knees. With his hair pulled back, she noticed the roundness of his ears and her heart fell. He wasn't Elvan.

"Welcome back," he looked curiously at his surroundings, "These strange garments are very comfortable. It is very kind of your people to provide us clean clothes and food."

Isha looked at him, surprised, "We wouldn't refuse aid, even in the case of a Terran."

Gandalf stroke his beard, nodding, "The trait of a caring people."

"It wasn't always this way..." Isha sighed. Her people had waged a long costly war; the outcome still echoed through the crippled planet. She was deeply ashamed of the past actions that resulted in so much death.

"The deeds of our ancestors is a heavy burden to carry," Gandalf added, pulling her out of her grim thoughts. "They also bring knowledge, a new outlook on life and hope for change."

Isha stared at the old Terran, his words comforted her and she felt less melancholic.

"Where are you from, Gandalf? Why is a Terran traveling with an Elvan in the radiated wasteland?"

Again, another low rumble sounded from outside and a soft tremor coursed through the building.

"Because we were cast out of our lands and we had to flee. Those heavy clouds you saw are not simple storm clouds. They are a coming evil that has escaped the confines of its ancient prison. The only thing protecting your city, is the Silmaril in its center."

The image of a glowing many-faceted jewel came to her mind. Yes, it was the same as the Jewel of Light, held by a statue in the city park.

"It is also what this evil is after," Gandalf had stood up and reached for his walking stick. He held it in his hand lovingly, "The Battle of Battles is upon us."

Isha remembered her nightmare all too clearly, and she shivered. "Do you mean to say that my city is in danger?"

"Everything and everyone, living and breathing. Morgoth is merciless, once he has the Silmarils, there is no way to resist him... Not without help from the Eldar and Valar. Unfortunately, like them, Lady Galadriel was placed into a deep sleep that she may not wake from."

His words were a jumble of gibberish to Isha, maybe the old man was making this story up. Isha knew in her heart he spoke the truth.

A loud rumble had the whole building shake under her feet. Alarms and red lights flashed. Holographic screens appeared on the walls displaying outside footage of a terrifyingly large titan dressed in an armor black as the void of space. He stood over the city, pounding his fist onto the dome.

Isha couldn't hear the words coming from the broadcast over the cacophony of frightened screams. She was about to give in to the panic and fear but Gandalf took her hand and his gentle eyes found hers. He squeezed it lightly.

"Isha, listen to me. I will open a portal that will send you and Galadriel back. I am sending you to the 4th Age, many millennia away. When elves - the ones you indirectly descend from - still resided in Arda. Perhaps there is still hope."

"W-What am I supposed to do? Where do I go?"

"Find Lord Thranduil and Lord Celeborn of Eryn Lasgalen. They may have a way to bring Lady Galadriel from her cursed sleep."

"I'll do what I can... Will this change today's outcome?"

"We must have faith."

Snapping out of her trance, she traveled to the other side of the room and stood in front of a little shelf connected to the wall. A row of ZP generators were neatly aligned; the technology of her people. She took hold of as many as would fit onto her magnetic belt - if she was going back through time, she might as well take extra precaution.

The young woman activated one of the slim boxes and carefully constructed plates appeared and clicked together, contouring her the entirety of her body and adjusting to her arms legs, torso and shoulders. She had never worn the bulkier battle armor of her people but this wasn't the time for inner debates. She chose not to wear the helmet just yet. Isha went to the only occupied bed in the room and slung Galadriel over her shoulder. The woman had been given a creme-colored thermal suit as Gandalf, which meant she had her own personal magnetic belt.

With her free hand, Isha hooked an extra generator onto Galadriel's belt and with a command plates formed around the unconscious woman, the helmet being last to appear.

The floor shook loudly, long cracks formed deep in the wall and all lights went out in the room. The city's main generator had been overloaded. An incessant rumbling shook the buildings like leaves in the wind. Isha never felt such fright in her lifetime. The thought of her beautiful city being crushed underneath this monstrous titan was more than she could bear. Hot tears ran freely down her cheeks as an oval portal opened in front of her.

"Go to elves, find Celeborn and Thranduil," Gandalf bellowed loudly, a long worried frown clear to see on his weary face.

"What about you?!" She yelled through the noise of the portal.

"There is no hope for me. Good luck, Isha of the Elvan."

She wanted to scream but her whole body was absorbed into the magical doorway and everything went dark.


	4. Chapter 3

The sensation of plummeting from a great height is what Isha first experienced as she was woken up from the harsh wind - that and her hair whipping violently against her face. Alarms chimed loudly in her ears, an emergency visor had formed in front of her eyes, warnings of bright red flashes, informing her that all but one of her generators had failed. Her combat armor was gone and confirmed the worst. All she was wearing were her medic-facility clothing. How was that possible? Memories came rushing back to her, of black clouds, of an old man opening a rip through time, and the feeling of being both shrunk and pulled to unnatural lengths as she had crossed the space-time barrier.

Her generators hadn't been built to withstand such a strain and had promptly fried; her brain pointed out to her. Isha felt her stomach churn at the view underneath her; expansive planes of unending green and trees that looked tiny to her were framed by tall mountains in the distance. The woman was hundreds of feet above ground and it was inching rapidly towards her.

Isha was light-headed and groggy. Her lungs had difficulty inhaling oxygen at this height and velocity. Her arms, heavy as lead, she very slowly adjusted her personal generator to create a clear breathing mask that covered her mouth and nose. The air entered her lungs easily now, and she felt relief wash over her. At least she wouldn't lose consciousness while she fell to her death. She had to find a way out of this.

What about Galadriel? The unconscious woman had crossed through the rip with her. She would be in free-fall like her.

Isha struggled to see, her eyes were watering from the wind. She finally spotted the fully armored body; being flung about like a rag doll further down from her. With the bulky armor on, the body was heavier and fell at a much greater velocity than hers. Isha attempted to make herself aerodynamic by pulling her arms to her side, straightening her body and pointing herself downwards. The minutes where as hours. She began drawing closer. Extending her arms to their full length her fingers grazed the unconscious form but lost their hold. Galadriel was slipping away, if she didn't get it right this time, she would fall to her death.

Biting her lower lip from the strain, she extended herself fully again and this time her fingers caught hold of the woman's arm; which - by a streak of pure luck - had flung towards her. Isha hauled herself onto the woman and quickly went to her own personal generator. If she could issue a command to remove the armor, then she would have access to Galadriel's second generator. The green planes that she had seen moments earlier were now clearly defined trees. She didn't have very long left.

The small holographic screen hiccuped a string of partially legible code. Isha swore. Galadriel's generator had been badly damaged. It was a wonder it was still operational. She prayed to the gods and tapped frantically, entering her command. A red logo flashed. She tapped again and again with the same outcome. Frustrated and losing hope, the red logo finally turned to blue and the armor around Galadriel fell apart, piece by piece revealing the unconscious woman underneath; her long golden hair, no longer confined, was thrown around her wildly.

They were now just a few dozen feet above the tops of the trees. Tapping another command, Galadriel's generator issued a small platform underneath her that fit the woman's body. Isha collided against the body underneath her and was thrown off. Her fingers barely caught onto the edge of the platform before she slipped and went falling downwards through the trees. Her hands frantically tried to grab at anything that would slow her fall, but everything became a frantic blur. The trees seemed willing to help her, for, their branches helped soften her fall. She finally reached the hard ground, a sharp pain registering through her body as she lost consciousness.

* * *

Angrendir had found a comfortable perch; a thick branch in the upper part of a tall Mallorn tree on the outskirts of the woods. He rested his back against its trunk, relishing the tranquility. The green-elf enjoyed it here, especially the birdsong. Ever since he had moved his home to these woods, he had noticed different breeds of birds that greatly fascinated him. Some worn colorful patterns his eyes had never seen before. This was the reason he had traveled to this area of the woods, two days travel from the city.

Sifting carefully through his shoulder bag, he retrieved a small leather-bound notebook where half of its pages were already brimming with intricate, detailed drawings of birds. His long fingers found a small bottle of ink and a beautiful red quill. He strapped the small bottle, upwards careful not to lose its black content and secured it tightly with a small piece of leather.

Spotting a breath-taking bird with bright blue feathers, he dipped his quill and quickly began to sketch onto the blank page. A strange sound startled both he and the bird, which flew away with an offended cry. Sighing his disappointment, Angrendir, rapidly placed everything back inside the bag. He looked about, towards where the sound had originated, but from this height his vision was obstructed by the thick foliage of surrounding trees. He leaped easily from branch to branch, an ability that came naturally to him.

A handful of indignant birds were squawking loudly above his head, in the sky. Looking up, he witnessed the strangest sight. The thin form of an elleth with long gold hair lay face down onto a shimmering surface. She was motionless and floated feet above his head. Angrendir was rendered speechless.

The loud squawking of the birds brought him out of his stupor. They were trying to peck the intruder.

"Apologies, friends," Angrendir, threw a few acorns at them, having them scatter and fly away.

The elf carefully climbed higher. Reaching more slender branches that would easily break under too much strain, he rested his footing upon the sturdiest of them. Removing his bow from its harness, he extended his arm and hesitantly poked at the shimmering surface. It produced a strange humming sound, but was sturdy. He would have to take a chance and attempt to get closer. If he made a mistake and fell, the ground wouldn't be very forgiving. The green-elf squatted low and then sprung up, pushing against the branches and snapping them in the process. He leaped high enough to grab hold of the surface. He pulled himself up and onto it. There was nearly no space for him to stand, he found a spot to rest his weight near the crook of the elleth's knees and one near her feet. To his amazement, the surface began slowly descending - as if the addition of his person was weighing it down.

Angrendir swept some branches out of the way with his arms as they continued descending at the pace of a fluttering snowflake.

His booted feet reached the softness of grass. Afraid that the surface would begin floating back up with his weight now removed, he quickly took hold of the thin feminine form and pulled her upon the grass; laying her gently onto her back, he propped her head up with the support of his bag. He brushed the silver-gold hair from her face and was taken by her beauty.

A sudden notion deeply disturbed him, he knew this face! He jumped back, as if struck by lightening. The Lady of Lorien! It was common knowledge among the elves, Lady Galadriel had left for Valinor many years ago at the end of the 3rd Age. Why was she floating above the trees upon a strange magical surface; unconscious and garbed in strange clothes that hugged the figure like a second skin?

Angrendir stood speechless once more. He brushed a hand through his hair in frustration. He had no explanation.

Maybe if she would awaken, he would find some answers.

The elf knelt beside her and gently shook her.

"My Lady, you must wake!" He waited. No response. He shook her with more force. "My Lady Galadriel, please awaken!"

Nothing. She stayed motionless and deaf to his words. Bending low and placing his ear against her chest, he took notice of the soft intake of air and the slow beating of her heart. She was alive.

He wondered if perhaps she had been poisoned, if she was, he would need to act swiftly. Shifting her weight over, he closely inspected her for any wounds, cuts or abrasions. To his awareness, there were none. She remained unconscious and that alarmed the elf greatly. Climbing to his feet, he set off to gather branches to put together a make-shift cot.

In his hurry, he nearly tripped over another body strewn upon the ground. He stealthily approached. There was no mistaking her gender, her feminine curves were evident from the thin form-fitting clothing the Lady of Lorien also wore. But, where Galadriel's clothes had been immaculate and her skin uninjured, this woman lay bruised and battered.

Angrendir crouched and carefully pulled the woman to his chest and carried over her to Galadriel. He lowered her down, with all the care he could muster. She whimpered softly in her sleep. Brushing the strands of light hair from her face, he noticed it was kept shorter than Galadriel's, about shoulder-length and a short thin layer had been trimmed to cover her forehead; which was currently brushed to one side. She had the fairness of his kin; he took notice of the pointed shape of her ears. That confused him even more.

His eyes went to the large lump on her forehead had filled with blood; she had hit her head hard. Many small scratches were upon her skin, he instinctively knew came from branches. Angrendir was now convinced she had fallen from high up, probably from that very floating surface. What was she doing up there to begin with? The elf frowned in deep worry, his planned day of leisure had been cut short and he had to act fast.

He brought the back of his hand to rest upon the crook her neck and took note of its warmth.

She has a fever!

The wood-elf burst into action. He quickly gathered sturdy branches and constructed a cot large enough to carry both ellith together. The trek back to camp was long and arduous, but went without any incident. On his way, he had retrieved leaves of the weed he recognized as Athelas; the healing herb.

He lit a fire and brewed the leaves.

The injured elleth stirred. Angrendir brought her the broth.

"Please drink this, it will ease your pain."

At his words, her eyelids slowly fluttered open. Through thick eyelashes, her green eyes were clouded and unseeing from the fever. He brought the liquid to her lips and carefully tipped the container. She coughed, but then drank a small amount. Her head lolled to the side and she lost awareness. Her skin was still dangerously hot to his touch. Dread mounted inside, what if it was too late for the Athelas to subdue the fever?

Angrendir couldn't just sit here, helpless. He kicked dirt upon the small fire, and hauling the upper side of the make-shift cot, he placed its weight upon his shoulders and he began his trek towards the settlement of his people.


	5. Chapter 4

The approach of Angrendir had been spotted by the elves of Ithilien a day before his arrival. The elven soldiers who were stationed at their outposts high above the ground and kept watch at the perimeter of the city, had come to his aid. Angrendir was visibly shaking from exhaustion and collapsed upon the ground as they reached for him. Riding hard, they had traveled swiftly to the safety of the settlement. The elves prided themselves in their beautiful kingdom amongst the trees; it had been rebuilt it to its former splendor, now known as the fairest country in all the westlands.

Once rested, Angrendir gave his ruler, Prince Legolas, a detailed description of the events that had transpired. Legolas had listened very closely; and found his tale difficult to believe. Yet, the slumbering form of Lady Galadriel within their midst was sobering. A sense of foreboding and intense worry filled him as he surveyed her familiar delicate features.

It was astonishing for him to witness the presence of the Lady of Light here in Ithilien when he had physically seen her depart the shore of Lindon towards the Undying Lands. What did this mean?

Galadriel had obviously been placed under a dark spell, one she could not wake from. What did her presence here mean? It left him deeply concerned. He required answers and the only one who would be able to give them was the unidentified elleth who lay injured and unconscious up within a secluded talan on the outskirts of his city.

A soft knock came from the door and legolas was brought out of his thoughts, "Enter."

A tall but slender ellon wearing a faded light gray and green tunic and smelling of dried herbs made his way inside and bowed to Legolas.

"Faervel, how fares our guest?"

"She has regained consciousness, my lord. Her physical wounds are healing well, yet... she is clearly distressed. I do not sense any ill will from her, she seems genuine in her plight."

Legolas arched an eyebrow, "And pray tell me, what that may be?" He leaned against the wall, cupping his elbows, waiting patiently for the answer.

The healer shook his head, confusion visible in his light brown eyes, "She refuses to reveal anything about herself or where she ails from. She's been inquiring about Lady Galadriel's well-being. Her tale is outlandish at most and does not make much sense."

Legolas stared out one of the large crafted window for a long moment and shifted his weight onto his feet.

"Bring me to her, Faervel. We've waited long enough, it is time for answers."

"Yes, my lord."

Legolas took hold of his bow and readied the quiver of arrows on his back as he left with the healer. They swiftly travelled to the outskirts of the city where the foliage grew thick and trees were knitted close together. They climbed up.

The talan was small and rudimentary. It was dark and his eyes took a short moment to adjust. He noticed the elleth sitting on the woven cot, her slender arms hugging her knees, her green almond-shaped eyes piercing the darkness were looking straight at him.

Faervel brought his palm up in greeting, and she nodded slightly. "Isha, may I present you Legolas, ruler of Ithilien. He is our leader and you may show him the utmost respect when speaking to him."

The stranger named Isha kept her eyes trained on him, reminding him of a cornered animal.

Legolas, pressed his hand against Faervel's shoulder. "Thank you, friend. I shall speak with her alone."

"My lord. Good day, Isha," Faervel bowed and left the talan.

Legolas waited until he knew Faervel was out of earshot. He was now alone with the peculiar elleth. He was intent on getting some answers from her. She wore the same strange garments they had found the Lady of Light wearing. While she was unconscious, Legolas had inspected the makeshift of the smooth, stretchy fabric hugging her figure and had come to the conclusion that no one in Arda would be able to replicate such intricate weaving. This added to his growing concern.

Now that she was conscious, he examined her. In this moment, she looked young, vulnerable and lost. She had the fair features of his kin but everything else about her was strange to him.

Sensing no immediate threat from her, Legolas smiled and approached her carefully. He came to sit at the foot of the cot by her feet. Isha watched without a word or moving an inch.

"Greetings, Isha. You have a beautiful name."

The elleth looked away, her fingers tugging at a light strand of hair. She wore it much shorter than was customary for his kin, the front was fringed, it came down to her eyebrows and parted to one side.

"Thank you," she replied in a whisper.

Legolas noticed the strange accent as she spoke the words in sindarin. Where did she ail from, he wondered. He'd have to choose his words wisely.

"The Lady of Light is safe. I would like to thank you personally for lending her your protection."

Legolas didn't let any emotion show on his face. Isha stared at him, he noticed the pulse in her neck quicken, the sharp intake of breath and the dilating of her pupils. He was correct in his assumption from reading her body language, she had aided the Lady of Light and this revelation that gave him some relief.

"Were you able to wake her?"

"No. Whoever put this curse on her, has a power beyond our comprehension. Where do you ail from and why was Lady Galadriel found with you?"

The elleth's shoulders sagged, her head lowered and hid her face into her knees. Locks of straight silver hair spilled over, shielding his view of her face; she was visibly trembling.

Her distress was palpable and genuine, he felt pity towards her.

Inching closer, his gentle heart reaching out to hers, he touched her forearm, "Isha, I need to know. Please, explain to me what happened."

Isha inched away from his touch, her eyes puffy and red. She remained silent, weighing his words. Finally she spoke in a low whisper, "No."

Legolas grabbed her small hands in his and held them tightly, his eyes trained on her. "Isha, you _must_. Lady Galadriel's life is on the line. We deserve answers."

Isha shook her head slowly, "I have nothing to say," she pulled her hands from his.

Legolas examined her for a long moment. She obviously had her mind set on not divulging any information to him. She was obviously frightened. His mind went to his father, who would have none of that insolence and disobedience. His father, The King of Eryn Lesgalen would forget about her and let her rot in a cell. But Legolas wasn't so cold-hearted, she needed some time with her own thoughts and he would do just that.

"You shall be confined here until you tell us what we need to know," He said calmly.

Her jaw set, she looked at him with defiance without saying a word. Her green eyes told bounds.

Legolas understood he had overstayed his welcome. "Alert me when you have a change of heart. In the meantime, Faervel will be keeping close watch over you. If you need anything, you can ask him."

With that, Legolas turned around and left the talan, disappointment weighing heavy on his heart.

* * *

Days trailed into weeks. As the harsh, poisoned winds of her withering world, Isha felt brittle while an all-encompassing emptiness ate her inside. Her physical wounds were rapidly mending but she felt as if all life had been sucked from her body.

She leaned against the wall of the wooden shelter which had been built high up among, large sturdy tree branches. Strands of gold and silver danced around her in the cool wind. She liked the feel of the smoothness of the wood under her fingers. Never in all her 400 years of existence would she thought she'd be witnessing so much vegetation. This was a paradise. Yet, it stirred no emotions. Only a never-ending numbness.

She let out a small sigh, barely holding her balance teetering at the edge, hundreds of feet above ground. Isha could bear the numbness no longer. She'd end her own suffering - a fall from this high up would kill her instantly. This time there would be no technology to save her.

Besides being their prisoner, the people here had been nothing but kind to her, if not a bit suspicious. Everytime she noticed the healer Faervel climb up the, '_talan'_ as he called it, to check on her - her breath caught in her throat. His bright eyes, light hair, fair skin and gently caring nature reminded her painfully of her own people. It hurt to see Faervel take care of her so selflessly, she, an outlander. She didn't deserve his kindness. She didn't belong here and of that she was certain now.

Her own reality was no more. Her world destroyed by something out of the depths of nightmares.

With Galadriel safely amongst her own, Isha could finally disappear.

She closed her eyes. It would be all over soon.

* * *

Faervel had sensed something was amiss the minute he awoke from his reverie. The gentle wind, made him shiver and the souls of the tall trees around him were tense. He had a troubling vision, one he had to heed.

With purpose, the elf, quickly made his way to the large elegant talan designated to his lord and leader. As if sensing his arrival, a tall elf dressed of browns and greens armed with his two knives and of his bow came out of the residence and met with him. A grave look was upon him.

"My lord-"

"There is no time. Let's make haste," Legolas replied with a stern look.

Faervel nodded and followed his leader, closely. They were headed to through the outskirts of Ithilien, where the trees grew as tall as castle towers and tightly knit together. Faervel, feeling the exertion in his limbs, struggled to keep the pace.

Thankfully, they had finally reached their destination. Peering up, Faervel's sharp eyes could make out the lonely talan through the thick foliage. To his alarm, he recognized the feminine form teetering upon the edge with arms extended by her side from high above. He understood why he had been called here.

Legolas had already leaped up, and was effortlessly climbing the nearest tree. Faervel followed him, but his eyes were trained on Isha. He prayed to the Valar for her protection. During the past week, he had noticed her further escape inward, the light and luster in her eyes disappeared. She refused any form of nourishment and he had known that she was slowly fading but he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself.

Faervel felt a terrible sadness encompass him. As a healer, life was most precious. He recognized Isha as his kin, and treated her as he would his own. He had failed her. His breath caught in his lungs as he saw the slender form slip from the talan and plummet to her death.

In a blur of movement, Legolas collided with her and was now hanging from a tree branch with an arm slung around the elleth's waist - the strain visible on his face. He scrambled onto the top of the branch and pulled the elleth onto him, clearly shaken.

With relief came renewed strength and energy. Faervel lent his aid and both he and Legolas were now standing safely on the ground with Isha, who was dazed and half-conscious.

Faervel knelt and took her face into his palms.

"Child, we have you. You are safe, now."

"None can ever be safe from _him_," she whispered, her eyes were unfocused and closing.

"Who, child? Who?"

"_Morgoth_."

Both wood-elves gasped in horror.


End file.
